by Sean Michael
He tried to nod, tried to answer, but only soft, keening sounds came from him.
Another kiss started as slick fingers pressed inside him, rocking with the same slow, steady pace of the tongue within his mouth, the beat of his raya's heart. He held tightly to Amut's shoulders, letting his raya push him higher and higher.
The pace altered, motions slowing as the thicker, hotter flesh of his raya pressed inside him, filling him until all Feyer could sense was sweet pressure upon his lips, upon his skin, within his body. He was laid bared and subsumed, consumed, taken by his raya and given such pleasure.
Steadily the pressure increased, the speed increased, heat building in his belly until he could not bear it. He whimpered, making soft noises, begging without words.
"Come for me, little one. Give yourself to me for you are mine.” The words were growled low, their hungry vibrations sinking into his balls.
He cried out as he came, body shaking apart. The only thing that kept him together were his raya's hands, large and solid on his skin.
The final thrusts, the pulse within him were barely noted, wrapped as he was in the cocoon of pleasure and his raya's hands.
"My Raya...” The words whispered from him, true and solid and all that mattered.
"Yes, little Imani.” His Raya settled beside him, pulling him close. “I am your raya, your master in all things."
Imani ... treasured, favored, held above all. He could live with that.
Seen
He'd been so good.
For days, and then weeks, and then months.
Obedient and humble, kind to the other slaves, serving his raya, his men and his guests, even the menial tasks like cleaning and food preparation. And then, out of the blue, Amut had decided it was time to take a woman to his bed, to give her a child. For six weeks Feyer had served her. Bringing her food, massaging her feet, running here and there for each thing that she wanted, no matter how small.
This morning Amut had finally led her back to the women, but when Feyer had asked if he should have any special preparations waiting his raya's return, Amut had said no. In fact, his raya had made it clear that he might not be returning that night as he had not sat around the fire with the men in far too long.
Desolate, Feyer had slipped from the tent and spent the day watching the sands blown about by the wind. At sunset he had returned to Amut's tent. It was empty.
In a fit of anger he threw the trays and plates and cups on the ground, the metal not breaking, but at least making a satisfying noise. The glass vials of oil broke though, leaving the oil to soak into the sands, their scents sweet upon the air.
Feyer didn't feel any better.
He'd been so good and it got him nothing.
He heard Amut's laugh outside the tent. “No, my friend, I have fulfilled my duties to tribe and the hunters. My Imani has been patient and quiet, even with the woman. It is time to reward him for his obedience. Take the hunters tomorrow; I will not ride ... the horses."
Feyer looked around in a panic. Nothing had been done and then he had made the mess. Perhaps he could mitigate the damage. Hurrying, he began to gather the plates and cups onto the tray, pushing them beneath the table.
Too soon, far too soon, Amut pulled back the flap of the tent, nose flaring as he stepped in, a bundle held within his hands. “All is well, Imani?"
In tears, all his effort undone by his own hands and facing the prospect of being ignored or given to another or made to watch as his raya pleasured yet another, he crawled toward Amut, head low to the ground. “I am sorry, my Raya. I am weak and impatient and not worthy of your care."
"Oh, Imani, what shall I do with you?” Amut's voice was low, not angered, but Feyer could hear disappointment there.
Feyer's head lowered, his body sagging even closer to the ground.
Amut's feet disappeared from before him. “I will take my bath at the harem, Imani. I will return and expect my house to be put to rights and my beloved Imani awaiting his punishment and my pleasure. Do not disappointment me.” Then Amut disappeared through the tent flap again.
Feyer's breath caught in his throat and he wasted at least a full minute staring at the sand in amazement. His raya had never given him another chance before.
Fumbling his way to his feet, he began to clean, working as quickly as he could without skimping. The dishes were neatly stacked, the furs set to rights, with fresh silks arranged artistically over the large pillows. He sped to the well, refilling the flagons with fresh water, stopping only long enough to pick up fresh bread, cheese and sweets from Shalia.
He cleared away the glass from the oil pots, turning the sand over so that the dark oil marks no longer showed. He spread the carpets out from the door of the tent to the furs, brushing them carefully, making sure there was no sand on them.
A last trip to Anii and a promise to teach her daughter massage and he had three new vials of oil, one spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, another with lavender and a third, which Anii boasted smelled of mangos and passion fruit.
His body was next. He stripped and oiled himself, taking the time to prepare his passage to receive Amut or whatever his raya might deem appropriate. He pumped himself to hardness and slipped on a jeweled cock-ring, pulling the leather tight around his balls, and then slid into a new pair of silk pants. Jewels went into his hair, delicate chains of gold around his throat and belly and wrists and ankles.
Feyer was out of breath, but all was done. He placed himself in front of the entrance, kneeling with his forehead on the carpet.
Now he waited.
Amut's feet appeared before him after what felt like hours, the scent of the jasmine soap favored by the harem strong upon the air. Without a word, Amut reached for him, lifting him easily from the ground. “Your punishment first, Imani, then my pleasure."
He was led over to the center beam of the tent, wrists gently bound, holding him up.
Careful to keep his eyes lowered, he spoke quietly. “I am sorry, my Raya, that your pleasure is delayed by my behavior."
Amut's voice came to him, soft and low. “Do you know what you are being punished for, Imani?"
"My impatience and anger."
"No, Imani.” Amut's hands moved over his arms and down his flanks. “You are being punished for your doubt. Your doubt that I would see your struggles, your victories, your obedience. You are being punished for forgetting that I see you."
A shiver went through him, his raya's touch so welcome after weeks without. Amut had not touched him in the time the woman had been in his raya's bed, so as not to curse the union or the child that came from it.
"I will not doubt my Raya again,” he whispered.
"No, Imani? Not for a day or two.” His gauzy pants were drawn away. “Three stripes to remind you my eyes and need see you always. Are you ready, Imani?"
He closed his teeth together so that he would not bite his tongue and nodded, muscles clenching in anticipation of the pain to come.
"Relax, it eases the sting.” Quickly, moving almost too fast for comprehension, three lines of fire were laid across his shoulders, his buttocks and his thighs. Then Amut stood behind him again, strong and warm.
There were tears in his eyes, more from disappointing his raya than the pain, though the stripes were like pulses of fire along his skin and his body trembled in reaction.
"My brave, strong Imani, not a single cry.” Amut's hands began stroking his belly, his thighs, moving in long, slow swipes. Heat and pleasure found his neck in the form of his raya's mouth.
He moaned softly, pushing into the touches as best he could in his precarious position. His raya's hand spread his legs, moving to cup his bound sacs, slide hot and firm over his cock. All the while, the heat at his back never ease, pressed and rocked against him. The pleasure warred with pain as each touch to the stripes felt like a burn. The two sensations twisted together until they became indistinguishable.
Hot hands slid around his thighs, spreading and lifting him, the tip o
f his raya's cock pressing against his entrance. “Let me in, Imani. Open to me."
Taking a deep breath, he bore down, gravity pushing the large cock into him. He moaned loudly, fingers twisting above him.
The large hands moved to his waist, lifting him up and pulling him down onto the column of flesh within him. Hot sucking kisses traveled over his neck and shoulders, the hungry groans of his raya sharp in his ears.
Reaching back with his legs, he hooked his ankles around the wide thighs, shouting out as the changed angle pushed Amut deeper, the large cock pressing past the small gland within him.
His raya drove him farther and farther, his hungry cries filling the tent as Amut filled him. Amut's teeth found his shoulder, nipping sharply, pulling at his skin, devouring him.
Feyer's cock pulsed within it's bindings, sending shudders throughout his body, even down to the fingers and toes at the ends of his stretched limbs. Amut pushed deep within him and stilled, holding him impaled and stretched, teeth worrying his neck, breath coming sharp and hot against him.
His body was trembling, oh-so-fine tremors that were pleasure and the excitement that came from being the vessel of his raya's pleasure. As Amut remained still as a statue, Feyer began to whimper, soft sounds of need.
"Patience, Imani. Feel me within you, behind you, seeing you."
Feyer trembled harder and breathed deeply, forcing the whimpers back down his throat. It took long, agonizing minutes, but at last he was quiet and still but for the occasional spasm of muscles over which he had no control. Amut was thick and long, buried deep within him. The thighs beneath his heels were solid and absolutely still. He could feel the heat of Amut's body all along his back, the power of the dark eyes like a physical touch along the stripe that cut across his shoulders.
He was possessed. Taken. Seen.
"Yes, my most favored. You are mine and mine alone."
Then Amut began to move, slamming into his body, giving him what his body so desperately needed. He could do no more than hang there to be impaled again and again as Amut thrust into him, used him for pleasure. It was truly heaven on earth.
The rough voice found his ear. “Share your pleasure with me, Imani. Show me your joy. Come for me."
Nothing could come in his way of obeying that voice and with a roar his pleasure poured from his untouched cock. His raya answered him with a growl, heat filling his body.
As he floated, shivering and sobbing, Amut unfastened his wrists, carrying him to the piled furs and laying him upon his stomach. As he caught his breath, a cool, soothing salve was worked into the stripes upon his skin, massaging gently.
"My Raya ... Amut.” He murmured the name, love and obedience in the tones as he vowed silently not to fail. Again.
"Yes, my brave, strong, little Imani. Sleep now, tomorrow is ours.” The hands soothed and petted for a moment longer, then Amut settled beside him, large and hot upon the furs.
He nearly began to cry again, it had been so long since he had been allowed to sleep in Amut's bed. He pressed close to his raya, nuzzling into the smooth heat, where he belonged.
A soft fur draped over his back and his lips were covered in a short, possessive kiss. Amut's marks burned, the body beside him was warm and comforting. He knew, without a doubt, that his raya saw him.
Most Favored
It had been too long since Amut had sequestered himself away with his Imani. He could feel the itch and ache sliding through him like the spring fevers that attacked the tribe years before. The sweet body was attentive every night, offering him his pleasure without complaint, but his Imani was as a fine mount, requiring a firm hand, attention, and the understanding that the one who held the reins was master.
He finished his meal and wine, then looked over at his second, voice pitched loud enough that his Imani, who knelt behind him, awaiting his will, could hear.
"I will not be dancing with the warriors this night. I will be in my tent. I do not wish interruption."
His second nodded. “As you will it, Meun Amut."
If his attention had not been on his Imani, he would not have heard Feyer's soft intake of breath.
Excellent.
Amut stood, nodding to his people and then moved toward his tent, knowing his Imani would attend. Feyer's bare feet were nearly silent on the sands, his Imani following at the proper step and a half behind and to his left.
He entered his tent, removing his sword and his symbols of office, setting them aside so that his might focus on his pleasure.
Feyer filled a bowl with water and set it next to him. Kneeling, his Imani asked to attend to him. “May I wash my Raya's feet?"
"Yes, Imani.” He grew hard, watching the sleek line of his most favored's spine and growled low, letting his desire have its voice.
A ripple passed through Feyer's body, though his Imani was silent, hands sliding wetly over his skin, cooling and refreshing him.
As soon as his feet were dried, Amut spoke. “Undress me."
He had a game planned, a small entertainment to amuse them and bring a spark to those dark eyes that watched him so closely.
"Yes, my Raya."
Feyer stood, fingers warm and soft, sliding along his skin as his robe was pushed up and pulled off. There were fine tremors in those fingertips, his Imani not as calm as he appeared on the surface. Amut reached out, tilted Feyer's chin and took a long, lazy kiss, filling himself with the honeyed wine and need flavor that marked his Imani. A soft sound vibrated against his tongue, Feyer's whimper soft and wanting.
Amut deepened the kiss, feeding off Feyer's need and desire. He held the fine head in his hands, tilting and moving his Imani so as to get the deepest kiss, the best taste. Feyer whimpered and sank against him, skin so warm and soft.
He lifted Feyer, heading toward the furs. The games could wait until he had slaked his thirst, taken the edge from his need. He settled them upon the furs, hands tearing at the gauzy coverings which hid his Imani's body. Finally he broke their kiss, growling low. “Your mouth, Imani. Attend me."
"My Raya's pleasure is my greatest joy.” Feyer slid down his body, lithe and supple, tongue taking soft tastes along the way.
Amut spread his thighs, offering his need, his pleasure to his Imani's care. His balls felt heavy, his cock tight and hot, anticipation filling him. Feyer took a taste of him from the very tip of his cock first, his Imani moaning softly. Then that sweet, warm tongue slid along his shaft, exploring each bump and vein down to his balls. Each ball was taken into Feyer's mouth, laved and loved.
Amut growled out his pleasure, his appreciation, trusting his Imani as he trusted none other. For a moment Feyer's tongue slid beyond balls, lapping at the sensitive skin in this most private of places, and then his shaft was taken into Feyer's mouth. Such heat and suction surrounding his flesh.
He moved without thought, without worry, pushing up and up into that heat, knowing his Imani would take him deep. Feyer took him all in, swallowing around the tip.
"Imani...” He cupped Feyer's head in his hands and came, hips jerking and pressing hard as he found his pleasure.
Feyer took everything he gave, returning such pleasure. He relaxed into the furs, relaxed and sated, comfortable and ready to play. His Imani licked him clean, tongue bringing his shaft back to attention.
Amut smiled down into those hot, bright eyes. “Can you tell me how long it has been since we played, Imani? Since you and I entered into a wager?"
Feyer gasped, a ripple going through the sweet body. “So long I cannot remember how long, my Raya."
"No? And would my Imani be willing to enter into a wager with his raya?"
Feyer's eyes glittered. “Yes, my Raya, whatever you wish."
"The wager is simple, Imani. I will hold you in my lap, hands at your waist. You may use your hands, your mouth, whatever you wish. If I spend myself first, I will grant you one wish. If you spend yourself first, then tomorrow, my rings will adorn you here.” One nipple was touched, then the other. “And her
e."
His Imani shivered. “I will take your wager, my Raya."
Amut nodded. As if there were any doubt. He sat up, setting a number of pillows behind him and resting back before grinning at his Imani. He reached beneath the furs, drawing out a thick wood phallus, tapered at the end. It was smooth and wide, ridged around the base and would fill his Imani well, rocking inside the slender body, pushed deep by his thigh. “Bring the oil and come to me, Imani."
Feyer's eyes widened and another tremor went through the sweet body, but his Imani obeyed without hesitation, returning to him with the oil and kneeling at his feet.
"Over my lap, Imani. Open yourself to me."
"Yes, my Raya,” Feyer said softly, draping the lithe body over his knees, legs spread, buttocks high in the air.
Amut took his time, pouring the oil over the tight opening already glistening, always ready for his touch, his need, his cock. His Imani moaned softly, opening winking at him. He stretched Feyer with his fingers, two becoming three easily, then four. He kept adding oil, pushing and stroking, filling his Imani, pleasing them both. Feyer writhed against him, cock hard, hot, tip wet as it slid against his thigh. Sweet sounds of need and want filled the air, shudders beginning to rock his Imani's body.
He pulled his fingers away, dipping the phallus into the oil before pressing the wood against Feyer's hole. “Open for me, Imani. I wish to see you take my gift."
With a low, sweet moan, Feyer pushed up, body opening, swallowing the tip of the carving. Amut watched, not pushing, just holding the plug. His shaft grew stiff and wet-tipped as he watched the tiny ring of muscle stretch wide. Feyer whimpered, ripple after ripple going through the slender frame.
Slowly, Feyer rocked and stretched, taking the plug in deeper and deeper, until the widest part was engulfed and the remainder slid inside, his Imani's body snapping closed around the base. Feyer called out, seed splashing against his thigh.
He rumbled softly, purring and petting his Imani. “Such passion, little Imani. Such need."
"You make me need, my Raya. Always."
